


Queen's Christmas Carol

by shewasagaystripper



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: 1970s, Christmas, Holidays, M/M, Queen - Freeform, relationship: established
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-30 00:29:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16275485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shewasagaystripper/pseuds/shewasagaystripper
Summary: Christmas is the most wonderful time of the year according to Roger, but his boyfriend can’t stand the whole celebration





	1. Chapter 1

Though Roger thought every single one of the four seasons were great in their own way, he absolutely loved the winter. He just adored everything about the darkest months of the year: wearing sweaters and scarves, walking home from the studio in a slight darkness, lighting candles around the house. He also didn’t mind the weather – the snow, ice, the overall cold weather outside that gave you an excuse to stay inside to sit around the fireplace and curl up against your boyfriend with a blanket and a cup of tea or, even better, hot chocolate. But the best part of the coldest time of the year, was without a doubt Christmas. It was just everything about the Christmas celebration and the time prior to it; getting a Christmas tree, dragging it all the way up to their apartment and putting all kinds of mess they had gathered over the years in the pine branches. Decorating the house with candles and wreaths and other Christmas stuff. Baking – and mainly eating – Christmas cookies all day long. He even didn’t mind the tradition of wearing ugly Christmas sweaters, if it was something everyone around him also did – and talking about everyone around, the best part was of course celebrating Christmas with all your friends and family. And there was the missing link, the link that could make Roger’s Christmas absolutely magical: If his boyfriend would change his mind and get over the festivity as well, so they could happily celebrate it all together.

But unlike him, Freddie absolutely disliked Christmas, something that Roger deemed impossible. Yet, it really was the truth – when the Christmas cards started falling into their mailbox, all Freddie wanted to do was stay in bed, pull the duvets over his head and pretend like he didn’t exist until December the 26th. He somehow absolutely hated the ambiance around Christmas time, he loathed Christmas shopping sprees (though he usually loved shopping) and at Christmas Eve he was just absolutely absent-minded, uninterested, not even trying to enjoy himself even though he knew it meant so much to his boyfriend.

And that was why Brian was now sitting around the table with the grumpy Christmas-hater, in another helpless attempt to try and change is attitude towards the party. But since Freddie pretended to be intensely reading the car magazine Roger had left behind on the table last night, doing his very best not to listen to him, Brian already knew it was going to be another fruitless try.

‘You cannot possibly hate a celebration this much,’ Brian stated as he put his cup of tea down on the table, staring intensely at Freddie.

‘Apparently I can, dear,’ Freddie answered absent-mindedly, not looking up from his paper.

‘But _why_ then?’ Brian asked for what must have been the hundredth time.

‘Just because, dear. It’s just not my cup of tea.’

‘Yeah, wearing spandex overalls isn’t my cup of tea either, but you don’t see me throwing my guitar away and walk offstage every time you show up in another new outfit.’

‘But why would you? Why would you throw your guitar away because of my taste in stage fashion?’

‘That doesn’t make sense indeed, and that’s exactly the point! You don’t have to act like a grumpy teenager and spoil the entire party just because celebrating Christmas isn’t your cup of tea.’

Freddie just sighed in annoyance. ‘Not now, dear.’

‘Don’t you ‘dear’ me, Mercury. You can at least explain why you don’t like Christmas, and maybe we can do something about it altogether. You know it would mean the world to Roger-’

‘Brian, I’m trying to read this magazine,’ Freddie said, his eyes still not leaving the damned journal.

‘Freddie, stop trying to fool me. You’re not even reading.’

‘I am. This is very interesting,’ Freddie gritted, turning the page around.

‘Is it? I’ve never known you were into reading car magazines _upside down_ ,’ Brian said, taking the journal out of his hands and placing it down on the table with the letters in the right direction. Freddie blushed now that he had been caught, refusing to meet Brian’s eyes.

‘So, not that we can _talk without distractions,’_ Brian said leisurely, closing the magazine, ‘you can tell me what exactly is the point in hating Christmas.’

‘It’s just… I just don’t understand the whole happening around it, weeks of preparation and media attention and having to bury the whole house in a pile of Christmas-shit and other kinds of nonsense just because of the celebration of Jesus Christ that wasn’t even born on Christmas!’

Brian was quiet for a moment, kind of taken aback by this harsh explanation. ‘Well, that’s one way of looking at it. Look, I don’t love Christmas like John and Roger do, but it really is quite a nice party, celebrating it with the whole family, giving each other presents and spending time together.’

‘Yes, very nice. Getting lousy presents from family members you try to avoid so badly during the rest of the year,’ Freddie muttered.

‘Freddie!’ Brian reproved him helplessly.

‘But I’m right, ain’t I? The whole country is freaking out over two days of sitting around a Christmas tree and singing stupid songs and getting cheap presents from people you don’t get to see all year long. I don’t see what’s so great about that!’

Suddenly, Brian snickered, causing Freddie to look up at him. ‘What’s so funny?’

‘Someone sounds jealous…’ Brian sang tunefully.

‘What?’ Freddie snorted indignantly. ‘I’m not jealous! For what? I don’t have any reason to be jealous!’

‘You don’t fool me, Mercury. You’re jealous because we all celebrate this with our families and actually have a nice time, while you- well, I don’t know. Is your family not that close?’ Brian guessed.

Freddie looked up at him, then flashed his eyes down. Brian was kind of right about the jealousy part – the actual story behind his aversion to Christmas was that it seemed to be so incredibly _nice_ at other people’s families. But he and his family, coming from Zanzibar, barely knew about  the existence of the Christian party until they moved to England, where they were amazed by the madness around the Christmas days – people standing in the kitchen for three days to cook dinner for thirty-five family members and friends, people spending hundreds of dollars on presents for each other, people decorating their entire house for the celebration. And actually, as a teenager, he was curious about Christmas, something about the entire population of Great-Britain seemed to consider as the nicest time of the year. But his parents thought it was just nonsense and they refused to do as less as even send postcards to friends and family, and they would just sit at home and do nothing as the ‘best days of the year’ slipped by. So after numerous years of watching the entire country having a great time on the 24 th and 25th of December, and then hearing everyone around him talking about it until at least the half of January, Freddie had gotten sick and tired of the whole event. Somewhere along the way, he had just really started to loathe Christmas and he didn’t wanted to have anything to do with it. He had just shut the entire party out of his life, hated to walk around in a Christmas-style house for weeks in December, refused to go to Christmas parties from other families, refused to even _try_ and make the best of it.

Actually, somewhere in the depths of his mind, he knew he just felt _lonely_ and _unwanted_ and indeed _jealous_ around Christmas. But he refused to admit that to Brian, and especially not now that both John and Roger came running into the kitchen room.

‘Guys! We need to get a Christmas tree!’

Brian smiled evilly at Freddie before he looked up at both John an Roger, who were standing next to the table now.

‘We really need a Christmas tree before all the nice ones are sold out!’ Roger started.

‘Guys, guys, calm down! It’s only the 15th of December, do we need a tree already?’ Brian asked, taking a sip from his cup of tea, that had gotten awfully cold in the meantime.

‘We do! We just saw that the neighbours already bought a tree, so we need one as well.’

‘Well, we could go looking for a tree sometimes. Maybe tomorrow, altogether. Don’t you think that’s a great idea, Freddie?’ Brian chuckled as Freddie flashed him an angry glare, knowing that if looks could kill, he wouldn’t be here anymore.

‘We’re not getting a Christmas tree, for God’s sake,’ the front man announced harshly, making all three of them look up at him.

‘Why not?’ Roger asked.

‘Because I can’t see the logic behind growing a tree all year, then tear it out of the ground, drag it into our apartment, put stupid decorations in it and then throw it out of the door after a week!’

‘Don’t be such a drag! It’s so nice to have a Christmas tree in house. It looks so cozy, and it feels so magical when it’s dark outside and you put lights in the tree…’ Roger started dreamily, but Freddie was having none of it.

‘We already have lights in the living room, we don’t need a bloody tree for that. Seriously, it’s so childish to put a tree in our house. We’re not children anymore, dear.’

‘It’s not childish,’ Roger snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. ‘I want a Christmas tree.’

‘And I don’t. Whose apartment is this?’

‘ _Ours_. And since majority counts, we’re gonna get one,’ Roger answered.

‘If you howl a fucking tree into this house, I’m seriously leaving until December the 26th,’ Freddie snarled, then grabbed the car magazine from Brian’s side of the table and pretended to be reading it.

‘But baby!’ Roger pouted, but Freddie dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

‘Stop it, Roger. Read a book, write a song, go watch TV, I don’t care. As long as you stop _bothering_ me with everything that has in any way something to do with Christmas because you know I can’t _stand_ that bloody nonsense.’

Roger stood looking at Freddie for seconds with such a disappointed expression on his face that Brian felt like punching their frontman, who didn’t even pay attention to his boyfriend anymore. As John took Roger out of the room, distracting him with the words ‘we’ll play scrabble with Christmas-themed words,’ Brian took the opportunity to punch Freddie’s shoulder.

‘Brian! What was that for?’ Freddie asked, looking at the younger boy.

 _‘‘What was that for?’_ What was your attitude for, you mean! Why did you treat him like that?’

‘Dear, he knows perfectly well that I can’t stand Christmas, and yet he feels the need to start about it every time,’ Freddie said, raising his hands in frustration and ill-played helplessness.

‘So what? He’s your boyfriend! He’s so excited about Christmas, and yet you’re cruel to him when he shows that off! You should apologise to him, Mercury.’

‘Not happening.’ Freddie rolled his eyes as Brian gave him an angry glare, and he casually turned the page of the magazine around. ‘Fine. I’ll make up with him tonight. Unless he starts about Christmas again, because then I’ll seriously kick him out of bed.’

‘Why would you-’ Brian raised his hands in disbelief, but then he just sighed. ‘You’re such an asshole, Fred. You’re even worse than Ebenezer Scrooge.’

‘Ebeniler _who_?’

‘You don’t know? _Of course_ you don’t know, you never want to have anything to do with Christmas. Wait here, I’ll be right back.’ Brian stood up, the chair legs scratching over the grey parquet of the kitchen floor. Freddie stared out of the kitchen window, wondering if he maybe bad been too cruel to Roger. Maybe he should apologise indeed, but he kind of was too proud to do that, let alone that he would tell him why he didn’t like Christmas. No, Roger better just had to get used to him loathing Christmas, that was way easier. Roger just had to deal with it and stop getting so childishly excited about a party.

However, Freddie was disrupted from these thoughts when Brian returned and dropped something right in front of him on the table. Freddie frowned as he picked up the small, hardcover book that probably once had been burgundy-coloured, though it was now covered with a fine layer of dust. Freddie ran his fingers over the front cover, wiping the dust from his fingers with the tablecloth, and he frowned lightly at the title he had now exposed.

‘A Christmas Carol?’

‘By Charles Dickens,’ Brian added.

‘There’s no way I’m gonna read a Christmas book, dear.’ Freddie rolled his eyes as he handed the book back to Brian, but his friend didn’t give in that easily.

‘Come on. Roger loves this book. You should read it, I think you can identify with the main character very well. I’m going to play scrabble with the boys now, but I hope this will change your mind.’ With that, Brian left Freddie behind in the kitchen. Freddie sighed and opened the book.

_Once upon a time - of all the good days in the year, on Christmas Eve, old Ebenezer Scrooge sat busy in his counting-house…_

Freddie managed to just read this one sentence before he closed the book. ‘I wouldn’t read a Christmas fairytale even if it was the _last_ book on earth,’ he muttered quietly to himself.

# # #

That evening, after a long day of other attempts from Roger’s side to change Freddie’s opinion on getting a Christmas tree and grumpy replies from his boyfriend’s side, Freddie was in the bathroom to remove his makeup. Next to his mascara remover and a smudged piece of cotton wool, was the book Brian had given him earlier that day. He still refused to take a look at it, but he wasn’t so sure about what he had to do with it now. Maybe he could just throw it under his bed or somewhere in the mess of the drawer of his nightstand. He picked up the book and walked up to their bedroom, knowing Roger was already there – he had left the living room early, at ten o’clock already, to go to bed; probably just to avoid him and his negativity. But when Freddie walked into their room, he only just caught a glimpse of Roger closing his eyes, pretending to be asleep.  The lead singer coughed softly when he sat down on the bed.

‘Roger?’

No reaction. Freddie switched one of the nightlights on to look as his boyfriend. His eyes were closed, his fingers entangled in the duvet, something he usually did when he was stressed or when he was having a bad dream. And fighting over Christmas probably was a horrible nightmare for him, Freddie thought to himself, kind of feeling sorry for his behaviour – but not sorry enough to give in. He put the book next to him on the mattress and lightly shook his boyfriend’s shoulder.

‘Roger, dear, I know you’re not asleep.’

‘I’m trying very hard to. Goodnight, Freddie,’ Roger whispered.

‘I just wanted to say that I feel bad for yelling at you.’

Roger opened his eyes, and Freddie could see a spark of hope in them.

‘Really? Are you sorry about it?’

‘A little,’ Freddie said distantly, running his fingers through Roger’s blond tresses. ‘If I could do it over I wouldn’t have shouted at you. But I still really hate Christmas and I don’t want a tree in our house.’

Roger bit his down his bottom lip. ‘So you haven’t changed your mind yet?’

‘No, and nor I will,’ Freddie responded sharply.

‘Oh,’ Roger said, suddenly sounding very fragile. ‘Well, goodnight then…’ Freddie could see the hurt and disappointment in his distant eyes. He knew he had to make up with him, but he refused to promise him he’d try his best for Christmas from now off.

‘You know I love you,’ he said matter-of-factly, and Roger nodded gloomily. Freddie stroked his hair once more before he stood up to walk over to his side of the bed.

‘What’s that?’ Roger asked suddenly, reaching his hand out to pick up the book that was laying on the mattress. Freddie cursed under his breath.

‘Nothing. Give it back, dear,’ Freddie said curtly, sighing as a small smile appeared on Roger’s lips.

‘A Christmas Carol? Are you reading this?’ Roger asked softly yet excitedly, flicking through the old, foxed pages.

‘No, I’m not. Brian gave it to me, but I haven’t read it yet and there’s no way I’m going to do so.’

‘You should read it. It was one of my favourite books when I was young. This is a great book for a Christmas-hater like you.’ The discovery of the book had kind of swung Roger’s mood around, for he tried to hide his smile as Freddie stole the book away from him and threw it in the drawer of his nightstand.

‘Brian told me so. But I’m _not_ going to read it,’ Freddie repeated as he crawled under the duvet.

‘You are,’ Roger said, propping himself up on one elbow.

‘No,’ Freddie answered shortly. ‘Lie down and go to sleep,’ he ordered tiredly, which only increased his boyfriend’s insistence.

‘Not before you read that book.’

‘In that case you’ll probably _die_ of insomnia,’ Freddie said grumpily.

‘And you’ll _die_ of bitterness,’ Roger whispered, almost smiling as Freddie rolled his eyes right before he turned around to face the other way, pulling the duvet up to his shoulders.

‘I’d rather die from bitterness than having to read that book. Now go to sleep, you little tease,’ he muttered at him.

‘Come on baby, just give it a chance. It was my favourite book as a child,’ Roger whispered dreamily.

‘Good for you, dear.’ Freddie shut the lights off. ‘I’m not going to read it. Goodnight.’

 ‘You’re going to read it,’ Roger whispered after multiple seconds of silence.

‘Roger, one more word and I’m gonna hit you with that damned book,’ the lead singer growled.

‘You’ll read it and you’ll change your mind,’ Roger yawned, then closed his eyes and surrendered to a long, dreamless sleep.

# # #

A couple of days passed, days of Roger trying to change Freddie’s mood around, but he was getting scolded at every time he started about Christmas. Roger became quiet, sad, and Brian and John started participating in the Christmas-battle as well. But they didn’t succeed in making Freddie hate Christmas a little less as well – actually, they somehow only seemed to make it even worse. He still didn’t want to go Christmas shopping, didn’t want to talk about getting a Christmas tree, and he simply refused to look at the book. The mood in their apartment was changing for the worse with everything they tried – Freddie had thrown the Christmas candles in the litter bin, along with the Christmas advertisement brochures and he immediately switched to another radio station when the one they were listening to started playing a Christmas song. And on top of that, he had not only dismissed Roger’s idea of writing Christmas cards away with a wave of his hand, he had even torn the cards Roger wanted to write to both Freddie’s parents and Kashmira into pieces and then felt the irrepressible need to throw it into the fireplace. Of course, Brian and he had gotten into a new argument about it, only increasing Roger’s nervousness and reticence and decreasing his level of faith in a nice Christmas. Brian and John found it to be heartbreaking to see how every attempt of Roger trying to talk about, listen to, read about, or look at anything that had something to do with Christmas was basically being punished by Freddie either getting mad at him or not talking to him all day long. And they still were desperate to find out why Christmas was such an obstacle for Freddie.

It was early in the morning of December the 20th as John, Freddie and Brian were sitting around the table. Christmas was nearing and Freddie’s mood was getting worse with every passing day, but this didn’t stop Brian from asking him how his Christmas preparation were going. The guitarist put his cup of tea down on the tabletop. ‘Already gone Christmas shopping, Freddie?’

‘What? Oh, God, no.’ Freddie shook his head violently. ‘Is that really necessary, dear?’

‘Aha. We all buy each other presents, so you’re not going escape this whether you like it or not.’

Freddie rolled his eyes. ‘I’ll just give you money or something like that.’

‘That’s not fun,’ John stated. ‘We can go shopping together after the studio.’

‘Please not. I’ll figure it out myself tonight. I’ll find a way to find some presents as easily as possible.’

Brian sighed as he picked up a slice of bread, knowing this discussion would go nowhere, just like all the other talks he had had with his friend over the last couple of days. Yet, he still wasn’t able to let go of it yet.

‘And the book?’ Brian informed.

‘Which book- oh, you mean the Bloody Christmas Carol? Of course I haven’t read it.’

‘Come on,’ Brian sighed. ‘You should read it and then you’ll see how stupid your attitude towards Christmas is.’

Just as Freddie opened his mouth to probably say something very indignant, Roger appeared around the door. He was looking at some papers he was holding in hands, but all Freddie could see was that he was dressed in a red and white knitted sweater that was unmistakably a Christmas sweater.

‘Guys, look, we’ve received the first Christmas-’

‘Rog, darling, what on _earth_ are you wearing?’ Freddie interrupted him tiredly.

Roger stood still and looked up innocently. ‘A Christmas sweater. Look, it’s got reindeers on it.’

‘Are you bloody serious?’ Freddie spat out, earning a dirty glance from Brian, though he didn’t really mind that. ‘How can you _possibly_ wear something like that?’

‘Well, it’s a tradition. My aunt made this some year ago, and, uhm…’ Roger’s voice died out and he started blushing, quickly settling down next to John.

‘It’s cute, Rog. Look, I’ve got one too,’ John said, pointing at the snowman on his dark blue sweater.

Freddie massaged his forehead with his fingertips. ‘And I thought a Christmas tree was childish – ow!’ Freddie looked up at Brian, who had kicked his leg under the table.

‘One more word and I’ll ask his aunt to knit a sweater for you as well.’ 

 ‘Not necessary. He already got me one,’ Freddie said, leaning over the table to reach for the teapot. ‘But there’s no way I’m gonna walk around looking like a complete fool.’

‘And how would you describe the way you normally look, then?’ Brian teased him.

‘Shut up, May,’ Freddie rolled his eyes and picked up a slice of bread, only then noticing that it had raisins and walnuts in it. ‘What happened to the bread?’

‘It’s Christmas bread. You should try it-’ John sighed as Freddie threw it back on the plate and walked over to the fridge. ‘I should’ve known better…’

‘I’d rather starve than eat anything in Christmas-style, dear.’

Brian glanced at Roger, who had become awfully silent, staring down at the envelopes he was now holding under the table. ‘What were you trying to say, Rog?’ he asked sweetly.

‘Oh, nothing special. We just… got some Christmas cards,’ he said softly, handing the small pile of envelopes over to Brian without looking up.

‘Let me see… Oh, this is my mother’s handwriting… This one is for you, Roger,’ Brian said as he handed a red envelope to Roger, who took it from his hands, but he didn’t open it yet. ‘Roger Taylor… John Deacon… Roger Taylor… You’re quite popular, Rog!’ Brian said as he have him the two cards, and Roger smiled faintly, trying to ignore his boyfriend, who was rolling his eyes once again.

‘What about these two?’ John asked as he tore his envelope open, pointing at the two white envelopes that were still lying on the table.

‘I’m not sure. But I guess we’ll find out,’ Brian winked as he took the card out. _‘Dear Freddie, Brian, John and Roger, we hope you’ll be having a wonderful Christmas and a happy new year. Lots of love – your biggest fans, Marly and Emma from Newcastle.’_

‘Sweet,’ John said with a broad smile on his face as he picked up the card, but of course, Freddie disagreed.

‘Oh God, I’d never thought I would ever _hate_ receiving fan mail.’

Brian rolled his eyes. ‘Can you please stop acting like a whiny toddler and grow up for a chance?’

‘Grow up for a chance? I’m the one that isn’t overexcited about another stupid party! You three sound grow up, and especially you, Roger.’ Freddie glanced over at his boyfriend, who didn’t look up from his plate, biting down his trembling bottom lip.

‘Christmas isn’t childish…’ Roger tried weakly, earning a senseless chuckle from Freddie.

‘Oh, stop it. Go get changed for God’s sake, then we can leave for the studio like normal people.’ Roger let out a shaky sigh as he stood up from the table and strode over to the door without another word. ‘And _burn_ that stupid Christmas sweater before I do so,’ Freddie called out. The door slammed shut and the frontman leant back into his chair, almost displaying a satisfied air around him.

‘Okay Mercury, that’s it. Why on _earth_ would you be like this? What even is your problem?’ John, who was usually so calm and peaceful, snarled, before he suddenly stopped, frowning lightly.

_He doesn’t want to send Christmas cards to his family. He doesn’t want to wear a Christmas sweater that’s knitted by Roger’s aunt. I might see a recurrence in this._

‘Maybe I know what the problem is,’ John said as he stood up and walked towards the door through which Roger had left the room.

‘The only problem are both you and Roger- where are you going?’ was the last thing John heard before he walked through the hallway, standing still in front of Freddie and Roger’s room. He knocked on the door, but as no reply followed, he softly opened it. Roger was standing in front of the wardrobe, shirtless, going through a pile of shirts to find something Freddie might approve of.

‘Roger? It’s me,’ John said. Roger obviously hadn’t noticed him, for he quickly tried to cover his naked chest with the shirt he was holding in hands before he turned around. ‘Are you alright?’

‘Oh, eh, John...’ Roger ran the back of his hand along his eyes, before he looked up at his bandmate, but he looked away as John’s eyes didn’t leave him. ‘I’m fine, I mean- I was just… Why does he have to be like that?’ Roger’s voice broke down and he bit his bottom lip to try not to lose his composure, and John couldn’t feel more sorry for him.

‘He’s just an idiot at times. But I think I might have an idea.’

Roger looked up hopefully, but then he sighed. ‘There’s no way you can change his mind. I’ve been trying it for years and it really doesn’t work.’

‘Then you haven’t tried anything yet. Do you have gift wrap, tape, maybe a ribbon or something, and a lot of patience?’

Roger frowned. ‘I’ve got some Christmas gift wrap under the bed, so Freddie couldn’t find it, and I think we must have tape somewhere in the study room. But why?’

‘Can you give it to me?’

Roger blinked a couple of times, before he got on his knees to get the roller of Christmas wrapping paper from its degraded place under the bed. Then he headed off to the study room to return with a roll of tape and a red ribbon he somehow managed to find. He handed the objects to John with a slightly confused look upon his face.

‘Let’s see… Ah, this must be enough.’ John nodded to himself as he unrolled the gift paper.

‘John, what are you doing? This really isn’t going to work-’

‘I think it is.’

‘Giving him a present has never worked before and it won’t help us this time either,’ Roger said matter-of-factly, gloomily, as he turned around to the closet, tearing a random back shirt out of the pile of clothes and throwing it over his head.

‘We’re gonna give him something very special,’ John said absent-mindedly, as if the most amazing idea ever had just popped up in his head.

‘And what’s that going to be?’

John looked up; his eyes showed off a both excited and naughty sparkle as he replied, finally relieving Roger from his confusion.

‘You.’


	2. Chapter 2

It was almost six o’clock when Freddie was sauntering through the streets of London, his eyes fixed on the pavement, lost in his own thoughts. After a rather silent and tensed studio session, he had announced that he was going to town to buy some presents, if it was really that necessary.  He was hoping he could just quickly run in and out of some stores, buy the mess he needed and head off for home again – but unfortunately it turned out not to be that easy. He had purposely chosen to go Christmas shopping somewhere in the evening, hoping there would just be a small amount of other people who had also postponed their duty to buy the whole family Christmas gifts until the very last moment that would be running along the streets, but it was quite the opposite. The streets were being drowned in couples, families, excited little children whose parents had a hard time keeping up with them as they ran from store to store, and Freddie felt even lonelier than he had before. He knew it was his own fault – after all, _he_ was the one who had started hating Christmas years ago, _he_ was the one who refused to give in to his band and just try and enjoy the whole festivity, _he_ was the one who kept disappointing his boyfriend with his behaviour that was actually quite ridiculous. He knew damn well that he was the one that was being stupid, childish, unreasonable.

But now he was walking down the Christmas-decorated streets of their hometown, negotiating though the streams of happy people, his mind wasn’t set on making up with the rest of the band. All he wanted was to just find the presents he needed, run home and lock himself up in his bedroom, feeling even guiltier and more stupid than he already did.

Freddie was interrupted from these thoughts when he almost tripped over a passer-by that suddenly decided to stand still in the middle of the street, and he had to oppress the need to call out something that would have probably be very indignant. He coughed and walked past the woman, staring blankly in front of him as he passed the endless rows of decorated shop windows, Christmas trees, lights, statues of Santa, and especially tried to ignore all the people around him. Eventually, when a slight drizzle of snowflakes started to fall down from the skies, he strode over to the side of the street where he leant against the façade of a some other store without even bothering to look at it to discover which one it was, and he sighed loudly. It was cold, it was snowing and the rather strong wind that was blowing through the streets of London, in combination with the all too happy Christmas mood that seemed to have seized every single person except for him, made his will to leave the shopping centre and go home incredibly strong. But he knew he had to get this job done in order not to get into another fight when he would get home. He crouched down on the street, his back leaning against the wall for some support as he clumsily dug into the pocket of his dark blue coat. After several attempts, he finally got the three crumpled papers from his right pocket and tried to unfold them in order to read the words that were written upon the wishlists. He had once briefly looked at them before he tucked them away somewhere into the darkest corners of his nightstand, but he knew he couldn’t escape picking them up today. He read the boyish stationeries of both John and Brian, decoding something like ‘new bass strings’ and ‘Bold as Love by Jimi Hendrix’ before he put the papers away again. Mindlessly, he unfolded Roger’s wishlist, even though there was no need for – he had read it too many times already. He knew the once sentence written on it by heart.

**_All I wish is just for you to be happy around Christmas. xxx Roger_ **

‘I knew I would find you here.’

Freddie almost jumped up when a shadow suddenly towered over his body, and he accidentally dropped the paper when he looked up quickly to see whose voice had called out to him. Luckily, as he saw that it was just one of his band members, his hands buried in the pockets of his grey winter coat, his cheeks and nose red from the cold, Freddie could sigh in relieve.

‘John, dear, you almost scared me to death!’ he yelled pretty loudly, still kind of taken aback by the bassist’s sudden appearance, drawing the attention of multiple other pedestrians. ‘How- how did you find me?’

John smiled mischievously, pointing at the building Freddie was leaning against. ‘As I said. This is _exactly_ the place where I would picture you to be.’

‘What do you mean- _oh_.’ Freddie coughed as his eyes travelled over the shop window of the building that turned out to be a lingerie store. He felt his cheeks turning even redder than they already were at the sight of the row of display mannequins dressed in rather skimpy, revealing lacy corsets with matching thongs, all in red velvet and black leather. Except for the bras and corsets in red-and-white Christmas style, complete with lace gloves and stay ups with candy cane applications, of course. A whip with a red and white ribbon spun all around it, formed the finishing touch. Freddie got up off the street, wiping the melting snow off his trousers, muttering something about ‘not even knowing nor caring where he had sat down’ that only made John chuckle even more.

‘I’ve never known Rog and you were into cross-dressing.’

‘We are- what? No, we’re not,’ Freddie stammered, trying not to glance at the completely see-though catsuit at the far left. Still, John’s eyes followed his, and he made a comment that managed to make Freddie want to disappear from the face of the earth for real.

‘I think that one would look very good on your boyfriend. Nice Christmas present, perhaps.’

‘Oh, stop it, dear.’ Freddie rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t oppress the small smile that was tugging at the corners of his lips. Yet, this smile vanished even quicker than it had appeared when John crouched down on the street to pick up the paper he had dropped just a moment earlier.

‘Give it to me, John-’ Freddie reached his hand out to take the list from John, but the younger boy turned around a bit so Freddie couldn’t steal it away. He unfolded the paper, blinking a couple of times at the sentence he was reading. Freddie chewed on the inside of his cheek when his friend read the words out loud.

 _‘All I wish is just for you to be happy around Christmas,’_ John read slowly, then lowered the paper and looked up at Freddie with an accusatory sparkle in his eyes.

‘Yes, it’s-, Freddie interrupted his own sentence and sighed. ‘Why couldn’t he just ask for a new shirt or something?’ he muttered.

‘Because he loves you and he actually wants you to be happy. And I think that’s quite miraculous, regarding the way you’ve been treating him lately,’ John accused the frontman.

‘It’s his own fault. He knows how much I hate Christmas,’ Freddie said bitterly, still trying to steal the paper away from John, who quickly tucked it into the pocket of his coat, away from Freddie’s reach.

‘And I think I know why,’ John stated matter-of-factly.

Freddie snorted. ‘You wish, dear.’

‘I talked to both Brian and Roger, and I came up with a theory that might be very accurate.’

Freddie cocked a sassy yet inquisitive eyebrow at him. ‘You seem quite confident about it.’

‘You might not exactly be an open book to us, but I think I’ve found out what your problem is. Care to hear it?’

Freddie just shrugged. ‘I have other things on his mind at the moment, John.’

‘Like walking down the streets and not going into stores, avoiding to buy any Christmas presents. We all know that doesn’t work, Fred.’ John earned an eye roll from his friend, but he couldn’t care less at the moment. ‘Not until you admit to yourself what your actual problem is and get over it. So therefore, I think you should here my theory.’

‘If you insist,’ Freddie sighed, leaning back against the wall. John was usually the quietest member of their band, but once something ‘unjust’ got him talking, he would go on about it until he had proven himself to be right, making his victim having to admit that he had been wrong all along. And God, when John started announcing the exhibits he had gathered for this altercation, Freddie knew he wasn’t going to win this bloody battle.

‘Okay, listen up. First thing - you never go to your family with Christmas, you refuse to join Roger to his family. All you ever do is sit at home all by yourself and probably mutter about how much you hate Christmas.’ John was silent for a moment, looking at his friend with a questioning expression, before he continued when he got, as expected, no response. ‘Then, you didn’t want to send Christmas cards to your parents or sister and even ripped the ones Roger wrote to them apart. And this morning, you only got even more _insufferable_ when your boyfriend showed up in the kitchen, wearing a Christmas sweater knitted by his aunt.’

‘Dear, of course I got _insufferable_ ,’ Freddie said, recreating the emphasis John had put on the word. ‘Only _idiots_ wear Christmas sweaters.’

‘Mercury, we’re in a glam rock band. We look like idiots _all the time_.’ John had picked up the game of stresses as well, drawing the attention of other shoppers that walked past them. ‘But that’s not your point. Your point is that it was knitted by his aunt. You don’t just hate Christmas, but you seem to hate family around Christmas. And since I know for a fact that you don’t have some sort of ongoing fight with your parents during the rest of the year, there’s only one possibility I can think of.’ John paused again for a moment, as if he wanted Freddie’s approval to tell him his conclusion, but he told him his illation without approval when he got no reply once again. ‘You don’t want to have to do anything with Christmas because you’ve never celebrated it with your family. And you’re not just jealous of Roger, Brian and me because we do have a good time with Christmas, but you also feel lonely and rejected. And you don’t particular want to spoil the party for everyone around you, but you just don’t know how to take part of it along with the rest of the world. You actually just want to have a good time just like everybody else, but you’re afraid of getting rejected and feeling even lonelier when you do so. Am I right or am I wrong?’

Freddie looked down at the white footprints on the street that were left behind with every step the passengers took. John couldn’t have possibly been more right - he was feeling lonely and rejected around Christmas because his family didn’t celebrate it and all the other people seemed to have such a nice time. That was the reason why he had shut himself out of it, stopped trying to make the best of it, decided to just hate it even though he knew is behaviour was stupid. But after all this time of voluntarily spoiling the party, he didn’t really dare to get out of his ‘comfort zone’ of pretending to hate Christmas. But actually, he indeed didn’t want to ruin everything for both his friends and especially his boyfriend. He wished it was different, he wished he had acted different, and when he looked up at John he knew the other boy could tell this by the regretful look on his face.

‘So I was right after all,’ John said, but softly, gently, not vindictively.

Freddie just nodded absent-mindedly. ‘I know I’m stupid. You have every right to be mad at me, dear.’

‘I’m not mad at you, I just think-’ John stated.

‘Roger will probably hate me for spoiling the party for him,’ Freddie interrupted him quietly, kicking with his platform-heeled shoe against a lump of snow on the street, after which he crouched down again, as if he had lost the last sparkle of hope for a good ending to this story.

‘Not if you stop this attitude right now. It’s not Christmas yet, Freddie. You can still change,’ John said. He then dug into the pocket of his coat, revealing Roger’s wish list. ‘And by the way, I don’t think the person who wrote that all he wanted was for you – the grumpiest Christmas-hater I’ve ever had the honour to encounter in my life – to be happy, could possibly hate you. Not even if he wanted to. He really is the most kind, innocent and forgiving person on earth, isn’t he?’

This managed to pull a small smile from Freddie. ‘He’s a sweetheart, he really is. I shouldn’t have been so rude to him. I have to make up with my darling.’

‘And that’s why I’m here with you. Come, we’re gonna buy some presents for your darling,’ John said, reaching his hand out to help Freddie get off the cold, snow-covered street. Together, they walked along the decorated streets, the Christmas trees, the lightning, the stand on the side of the road that sold Christmas delicacies, off to go shopping with a completely renewed attitude.

# # #

Fifteen minutes later, Freddie and John found themselves standing in a record sop, flicking through the endless piles of vinyls and singles. On their way towards the store, Freddie had told John the entire story behind his aversion against Christmas, from his Christmas-less childhood back in Zanzibar and India to him first being curious about, but eventually shutting himself out of the whole festivity. And now, as the frontman was intensely studying the latest album of Slade, he was interrupted by John, who popped up at his side with a sly smile on his face.

‘What about this?’ he chuckled.

‘Elvis’ Christmas Album? Darling, not so fast. I’m trying my best to like Christmas, but this is one bridge too far,’ Freddie smiled, putting the album he was holding in hands back in the shelves. ‘We could also buy him our own album,’ he said, pointing at a copy of Sheer Heart Attack that had taken in a place in the shelves at the left side of the shop. ‘Do you reckon we could get it for free? It’s our album, after all,’ Freddie winked. ‘No, I’m just kidding. I was thinking about either Slade’s last album or this one,’ he said as he strode over to the other side of the room, returning with David Bowie’s Diamond Dogs. John looked at both albums, before he pointed at the last one.

‘I think he’d like this one the most. He collects David Bowie albums, after all.’

‘Deaky, have you got any idea how creepy you sound? First with your theory about Christmas and now this. You’re such a stalker,’ Freddie said, and the bassist blushed. ‘And I’m glad you are, dear. Otherwise I would probably still be leaning against the wall of a lingerie shop, inwardly cursing Christmas. I think it’s just getting better from now off. I’ll try my best, at least.’

‘I’m glad I’ve managed to change your mind a bit, at least. Are you going to buy this one?’

‘Yes, I am. Let me get my purse...’ Freddie swung the strap of his bag over his head, opened the zipper of it and looked through the contents of it. John chuckled quietly as he finally revealed the item he was hoping for him to find - and that was not his purse. Freddie frowned in confusion as he held the book in hands, looking up at John who wasn’t able to hide his smile any longer. ‘A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens?’

‘Aha. I thought you might be willing to read it now that I changed your mind.’

‘What- but... how could you possibly know your theory was going to work?’ Freddie stammered.

‘I couldn’t. I just hoped for the best,’ John shrugged.

Freddie was still kind of taken aback by this revelation. ‘But where did you find it? I threw it-’

‘In the upper drawer of your nightstand. Roger told me so, so all I had to do was grab the book this morning and dump it into your bag, chase after you when you went out shopping, talk you around and make you find the book.’

Freddie blinked a couple of times at his friend, who was standing in front of him with a more than self-satisfied smile on his face. ‘God, John, you’re even more of a stalker than I thought you were.’

‘Might be, but this stalker did manage to talk you around, after all. You’re welcome,’ John shrugged innocently as he followed Freddie to the checkout.

# # #

Multiple stores and multiple hours later, Freddie and John walked out of a book shop where they had found an astronomy book that Brian had asked for. Freddie thanked the shop assistant for helping them finding the book that was deemed unfindable by John, before he closed the door behind him, walking into the cold evening air. It had been dusky before, but during the time they had spent in the shop, the darkness had fallen over the streets of London, and when they stepped off the stairs of the shop, they found out that the streets weren’t as crowded as they had been before. It wasn’t exactly deserted, but especially the people with young children had probably gone home, leaving the streets to the few people like Freddie and John.

‘Lord, what time is it?’ John asked when he looked up at the full moon.

‘Let’s see... It’s almost eight o’clock already,’ Freddie said, a touch of surprise in his voice. ‘I think the shops close at eight. Have we got everything we need?’

‘A new watch for Brian, an album for Roger, a shirt for Roger, the book Brian asked for, some other mess... And especially the happy boyfriend Roger asked for,’ John numerated, making Freddie smile.

‘Perfect. Shall we go to a restaurant or something? I’m starving,’ Freddie sighed. His companion agreed and together, they walked into the first pizzeria they could find When they arrived, only to find that the whole restaurant was decorated in Christmas-style, Freddie didn’t even object, but he instead just followed John to a table on the side of the restaurant, where they had a view over the whole street. It had started snowing again when they were on the way there, but by the heat of the fireplace, they could finally take their coats off.

‘God, I think Brian and Roger will have started wondering where we are by now...’ Freddie suddenly said.

‘Nah, they knew about my plan. I think they’re more likely to be wondering about the success of it,’ John answered.

‘You’re un-be-lie-va-bly sly, you know that?’ Freddie stated, before he reached out for his bag, grabbing the old book again. He placed it on the tabletop, looking at it for a moment, as if he was observing every single letter on the cover. ‘I think I’m gonna try this book, you know, knowing Roger loves it so much...’ John nodded at him, encouraging him with the words that that was a great idea, and only minutes later Freddie was being absorbed by the story, not noticing anyone or anything around him anymore. A waitress came over to their table, but since Freddie was far away in his own mind now he was reading the book intently, John placed their order. The waitress scribbled his choices down on a notepad before she disappeared to the kitchen again. John looked at Freddie, who didn’t move with the exception of turning the pages around, and he coughed to draw his attention  - rather unsuccessfully.

‘Freddie, do you want to-’

‘Hus, dear, I’m reading,’ Freddie stated, his eyes not leaving the foxed pages of the book, and John couldn’t help chuckling.

‘You’re even more variable than the weather in this bloody country. The fist moment you hate Christmas, and hours later you voluntarily read a book about it. Getting Freddie to read the book: check,’ John said, more to himself than to his friend, as if he was checking his imaginary to-do list. ‘Just one step left.’

‘Apologising to Roger when we get home?’ Freddie guessed, this time looking up from his book. ‘I do want to. But I’m just not so sure how to,’ he added softly, insecurely fiddling around with the buttons on the sleeve of his shirt.

‘But I do know,’ John announced.

‘John, you know how creepy you are when you say things like that,’ Freddie warned him.

‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to interfere with you two this time. You’ll see what I’m talking about when we get home.’

# # #

And there Freddie was, standing right in front of the door of their bedroom, listening to hear if Roger was in there. After he had made up with Brian, the guitarist had told him that his boyfriend was in their bedroom. So now Freddie was standing in front of it, one hand on the doorknob, not  really having the nerve to open it yet. He had rehearsed what he wanted to say multiple times on their way home, but now he was actually about to apologise to Roger, he was quite nervous. He swallowed painfully, closed his eyes briefly and mumbled the words he wanted to say once more, before he knocked on the door.

‘Roger?’

No reaction followed. But just as Freddie was starting to think that Roger had either fallen asleep or didn’t want to talk to him after today’s events in the kitchen and in the studio, he heard Roger’s soft voice calling a ‘come on in.’

Freddie carefully opened the door and stepped over the threshold, only to find that it was dark in the room. He turned around to reach for the light switch, whilst he started off with his rehearsed words. ‘Darling, I’m very sorry for how I treated you lately- Oh my _God_!’

Freddie’s jaw almost dropped when he turned around to look at his lover. He had thought he was almost asleep, but it was quite the opposite than what he had expected. Roger was sitting on the middle of their double bed, a red-and-white Christmas gift paper wrapped all around his body, a red ribbon bound around it, with a very artistically knotted bow on his chest.

‘Merry Christmas in advance,’ he said insecurely, blushing as Freddie stared at him in disbelief. But this soon changed when Freddie smiled widely, striding over to their bed.

‘My God, darling! This was the last thing I expected to find you wearing!’

‘In my defence, it was John’s idea,’ Roger explained shyly, yet a bit more confident now that Freddie didn’t seem to be mad at him this time.

‘John? Did he tie you up like this?’ Freddie smiled, and Roger joined him.

‘No, Brian did once we got home, so John could go after you, but it was John’s idea. He said the ribbon looked very good with my hair colour.’

‘Goodness me, he’s even more of a genius I thought he was,’ Freddie said as he sat down next to his boyfriend, running his fingers though his messy, blond hair. ‘John indeed chased after me in the shopping centre today.’

‘And did he manage to talk you around?’ Roger asked hopefully.

‘You really all are in this plot, isn’t?’ Roger looked down ashamedly, but he smiled again when Freddie pecked his cheek. ‘He did. Mission accomplished. I’m gonna try my best for Christmas from now off,’ Freddie said.

‘Really? Promise?’ Roger said, his eyes lighting up in excitement.

‘Promise,’ Freddie confirmed. ‘I’m sorry for my behaviour. You know I love you and I hate to see you being sad,’ he said, and this time with a lot more passion and meaning to it that the last time he had said that in the bedroom. It wasn’t just a fact his brain wanted him to tell Roger to keep him calm - it was something his heart wanted him to tell Roger, because God knew how much he lover Roger and how badly he wanted to make him happy.

‘I love you too. I would’ve hugged you if Brian hadn’t tied my hands together underneath this gift wrap,’ Roger said, pouting at the restrictive paper around his body.

‘Mmm, come here,’ Freddie said as he pulled Roger closer to his chest, resting his head on the younger boy’s shoulder, and they stayed in that position for a minute, until Roger eventually broke the silence.

‘Freddie?’

‘Hmm-hmm?’

‘Could you please free me? I’ve been tied up since half past six,’ he whispered, and Freddie pulled back to look at the clock - it was a quarter past nine already.

‘Poor darling!’ Freddie cried, before he carefully started tugging on the red bow that decorated Roger’s chest. ‘I’m gonna free you, but that’s no guarantee that I’m not gonna capture you right after I’ve untied you,’ he added cheekily. Roger smiled when Freddie undid the knot and threw the ribbon aside, then proceeded to rip the tape apart. But just as Freddie was about to reveal his body that was practically naked underneath the gift wrap, a long forgotten thought popped up in his head.

‘And what about the book?’ he whispered. Freddie looked up from his task, his long, slender fingers stopped working on the tape, and he instead used them to cup Roger’s face, giving him a kiss on his forehead.

‘Shall I tell you something? I’ve already read half of it.’


	3. Chapter 3

When Freddie awoke with the upcoming Christmas-celebration on his mind, he couldn’t help but smile softly. Especially when he found a crumpled shred of red Christmas gift paper sticking on his thigh with a piece of tape, which must have gotten there during his make-up-session with Roger the night before. He couldn’t be happier that the two of them had managed to talk it out, that he had finally told Roger what the exact Christmas-problem was, and most of all, that Roger had been so kind and understanding. And so willing to ‘accept his apology and make up with him,’ he thought to himself, unable to hold back the naughty smile that tugged on the corners of his lips. A smile of happiness, a smile of mischief because of last night’s events, but most of all a smile of relief because he knew it would get better from now off. He was going to try his best from now off - for himself, for John and Brian, but most of all for Roger of course.

‘Darling, are you awake?’ Freddie yawned, reaching out to the other side of the bed, only to find it was empty. But the sound of the excited voices from both John and Roger in the kitchen made him look up at the alarm clock. With a blush on his face he found that it was a quarter past eleven already, and he swung his bare legs over the bed while running his hands through is black tresses. Somewhere in the corner of the room, he found a black velvet piece of clothing that looked suspiciously much like the trousers he had thrown aside last night. Unfortunately, his shirt was nowhere to be found, so he opened the wardrobe to grab another one. Still dizzy with sleepiness, he went through a pile of garments, until his eyes met the dark blue Christmas sweater Roger bough for him long ago. He tore it out of the closet to hold it in front of him and take a look at it in the mirror. It was a miracle that he hadn’t thrown it out of the window years earlier, he thought to himself while observing the jingle bell-print at close quarters. But he had to admit that it was quite cute, actually. And since Roger and John were wearing these things as well, maybe he should just go along with it. A small voice in his head told him that it was ridiculous, but he managed not to listen to it this time, with John’s words lingering in the back of his mind.

_Mercury, we’re in a glam rock band. We look like idiots all the time._

His only other objection was that the fabric felt like wool and therefore probably was very itchy, but he knew he could just wear a long-sleeved shirt under it to prevent that. It was December after all, so no one would blame him for wearing two layers of clothing. Altogether, he calculated that the disadvantages didn’t meet up with the advantage of showing Roger that he really wanted to do his very best from now off, so he decided to just go for it. He picked up a random black shirt from their wardrobe and slid into it, after which he picked the sweater up from its place on the bed.

‘The things we do for love,’ he sighed with a weary smile, before he threw it over his head. He took one more look in the mirror before he left the bedroom, silently treading into the hallway, towards the living room, where he found Brian hanging on the couch in his bathrobe, reading the morning newspaper with visible boredom in his eyes. He seemed to be all too happy that someone walked up to him to release him from his state of absolute tedium.

‘Morning, Fred. Let me guess: you made up with Roger last night,’ Brian announced.

‘Yes, I did. Did he tell you so?’ Freddie said as he sat down on the sofa next to his friend, who had now thrown the newspaper aside.

‘He told me, but the noise you two were making yesterday night was obvious enough,’ Brian said. Freddie would’ve blushed if Brian hadn’t added a teasing wink, and so instead he leant in to give him a playful poke.

‘Yeah, because John and you are always so utterly quiet when making love. It’s a fucking miracle that the entire street hasn’t come banging on the front door in the middle of the night already, dear.’

‘ _Banging_. Nice choice of words, Mercury,’ Brian chuckled.

‘Oh, stop it. I’m supposed to make the improper comments,’ Freddie said, but something else had drawn the guitarist’s attention in the meantime.

‘You’re wearing a Christmas sweater!’ Brian said, sounding genuinely surprised, pointing at Freddie’s clothing.

‘Yes, I thought... I mean, it’s probably the best way to convince Roger that I’m gonna try my best from now off,’ Freddie shrugged, but Brian could feel the shyness and insecurity through this facade.

‘It’s going into the right direction, Freddie. You know how happy you make him by doing this,’ Brian said, making Freddie blush. John and Roger’s voices where still audible, causing Brian to look into the direction of the kitchen before he spoke. ‘Go get your boyfriend. He’s fiddling around in the kitchen with John- I mean, John and him are...’ Brian paused his sentence and tried to make a right one with a more than confused look on his face now that he realised what _that_ must have sounded like.

‘Darling!’ Freddie teasingly chided him. ‘ _I’m_ the one to make those comments.’

‘I meant, they’re... They’re just baking cookies or something like that,’ Brian said quickly, a blush creeping up is cheeks.

‘Yeah, sure. I’m gonna see where those _sounds_ come from,’ Freddie said, making Brian cover his face with his hands.

‘Oh, God. Well, I’m happy to see you’re able to smile again, Mercury. Now go check on our boys before...’

‘Before the neighbours start _banging_ on the front door. At your service, dear,’ Freddie chanted before he walked over to the kitchen.

# # #

‘No, not like that! You’re doing it wrong. It’s falling apart.’

Freddie stood in the doorway, watching both his boyfriend and their bassist fiddling around – fortunately, with the instructions of cookie dough and not with each other, as Brian had verbalised so awkwardly. Roger was sitting on the countertop, watching as John was trying to knead the substance in the bowl into something it obviously didn’t form. Besides that, the kitchen looked like a _mess_. Baking trays and rolls of baking paper were spread over the kitchen table, empty packs of butter and eggshells on the stove. Both their sweaters were covered with a fine layer of flour. But even though they were quarrelling over the state of their meal-to-be, they looked happy, unable to hold back the smile that lingered on the corners of their lips as they continued their altercation.

‘I’m not doing it wrong, the recipe says so! It should be ready to use by now,’ John said, prodding a spoon into a bowl that probably contained some sort of dough.

‘The tree minutes are over and it’s not smooth enough - you probably didn’t add enough butter,’ Roger said pedantically, reaching out for a pack of the ingredient. Before John even got the chance to object, he had already thrown the butter into the bowl, chopping it into pieces with a whisk.

‘Rog, that’s way too much! You shouldn’t have added the _entire_ contents of-’ John  suddenly noticed their voyageur and looked up at him. ‘Good morning, Freddie.’

‘Freddie?’ Roger repeated, his eyes meeting his lover’s. Freddie smiled a bit insecurely at him, very aware that he was wearing a Christmas sweater, and it only took his boyfriend a second to notice this as well. ‘You’re voluntarily wearing Christmas sweater! You’re really making progress, dear,’ Roger smiled broadly.

‘I just wanted to let you know that’s I’m trying my best. I probably look like an idiot...’ Freddie sighed, but Roger disagreed.

‘Nahw, you don’t. You look cute. Come here, I want to hug you,’ Roger told him, already reaching his arms out, and Freddie walked over to him to press him close against his chest. They remained like this for quite a while, until John eventually called out to them.

‘Lovebirds, I’ve got something to say,’ he coughed, making Freddie take a step back and both of them looked at the youngest member of their band. ‘You _did_ ruin the dough, Taylor,’ he announced, crossing his arms over each other.

‘No, I did not. It looks way better now,’ Roger defended himself.

‘It’s too sticky,’ John said. ‘I _told_ you not to add all that butter.’

‘Shut up, John. It’s fine like this,’ Roger chucked as he stirred the substance with a spoon.

‘Darling, it’s way too sticky,’ Freddie rolled his eyes along with his first input in the conversation. ‘It should be a solid mass that doesn’t stick to your skin, but look at this!’ Roger let out a surprised cry when Freddie put his finger into the dough, then smeared it over his nose.

‘Freddie! What was that for?!’

‘That was to show you that John was right,’ Freddie said, petting Roger’s air as the boy pouted at him. ‘Listen, we all know I’m not a kitchen princess, but you should just add more flour and then it’ll be alright,’ he continued as he walked towards the door again.

‘You’re leaving?’ Roger asked, audibly disappointed.

‘Just to get my book. I’ll be right back,’ Freddie said, leaving the two boys behind with one more wink. When he returned only moments later to sit down at the kitchen table and start off where he had left the book last night – somewhere around page thirty – John and Roger were still busy trying to find a good medium between butter and flour, and after having added multiple cups of flour, ounces of butter and two eggs, they finally managed to make a perfect dough – for enough cookies to feed the entire street, probably. After a search for the rolling pin ánd after having covered the entire countertop with flour, they could start rolling out the dough and shape it into pine trees, gingerbread men and other kinds of Christmas-related items that somehow turned out to be possible to knead out of a slice of dough. Freddie read the book with a smile on his face as he listened to the somewhat offensive but mainly funny comments the two boys made, like ‘That Christmas tree looks even more unstable than our career three years ago’ and ‘If that gingerbread man would somehow come to life, it’d be arrested for ugliness.’ After the necessary sassy remarks, they could finally drop their creations into the oven. Whilst John returned to the living room, Roger shyly sat down next to Freddie, a small pile of papers hidden under his hands that were resting on the table.

‘What is it, darling?’ Freddie asked, his eyes finally leaving the pages of A Christmas Carol.

‘We still have to write Christmas cards to Kash and your parents-’ Roger said softly, then interrupted his own sentence. ‘Only if you want to, of course. I mean, I know how you feel around your family around this time of the year, but…’ his voice died out. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have started about it.’ Roger stood up from the table to walk off, but he was prevented from doing so as Freddie carefully yet firmly gripped his wrist.

‘No, I’m glad you started about it. I should write them a card indeed. Whether they reply or not is another story, but I’m gonna send them a card. Have you got a pencil, dear?’ Roger handed his boyfriend a kind of blunted pencil and after pondering about what to write, Freddie eventually managed to put pen to paper.

**_Dear Mom and Dad,_ **

**_I know we’ve never really celebrated Christmas before, but on the advice of my boyfriend I’d still like to wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new year._ **

**_Love, Farrokh_ **

He looked at it for a moment, before he added two more words to the subscription

**_Love, Farrokh and Roger_ **

‘Like this?’ he asked quietly, looking up at his lover, who nodded.

‘Perfect,’ Roger replied as he handed him another card. ‘For Kashmira,’ he explained, even though Freddie didn’t need an explanation to know what he was supposed to do. As the second card was written, Roger handed him even more – for Mary, for other family members and friends, until he finally couldn’t come up with anyone else who wasn’t living in either India or Zanzibar that still needed a card from Freddie.

‘Did the fans that wrote us cards also leave their addresses? We should send them, too,’ Freddie said as he grabbed another card, and Roger just smiled as he got up to look for the addresses. When Freddie was busy writing the last card, Roger flicked through the pile of written letters, suddenly remembering that there was no way they would have enough stamps.

‘I don’t think we have enough stamps for all these cards,’ Roger called out to Freddie, who didn’t look up from his task as he replied.

‘We’ll buy more when we get back from town.’

Roger frowned. ‘Why are we going into town? We don’t have to go to the studio today.’

‘No, but I figured we needed a Christmas tree,’ the frontman said calmly, as if it as no big deal that the subject they had been fighting over only a day ago was suddenly understood and approved.

‘Really? Are you serious?’ Roger exclaimed happily, then covered his mouth with his hand to hold back his smile.

‘Of course we’ll get a Christmas tree. On one condition.’

‘And that is?’ Roger’s smile faded slightly, but there was no need for.

‘That you go check on the cookies _right now_ , because I can see smoke coming from the oven.’

# # #

After lunch, Roger and John dragged both their boyfriends towards the market, where the four of the eventually, after a long series of complaints about single details of trees, decided to go for a mid-sized tree that didn’t seem to have any flaws at first sight. They dropped by the post office to buy new stamps and to hand in the cards, before they somehow managed to haul their purchase all the way through the streets, up the stairs, and into their apartment. John had pushed the bookcase aside to make place for the tree in the corner of the room, and Roger pulled out a box of Christmas decoration that he had hidden very good trough the years so Freddie hadn’t had the chance to throw them away yet. And as Freddie helped him draping the garlands over the pine branches, he knew there was no need for him to be afraid Freddie would do so now.

John and Roger had somehow managed to save most of their homemade cookies from the smoke, and when they were done arguing over the question whose fault it was that they almost got burned, the two boys tried to hang them up in the tree with a ribbon bound around it or by pricking a tiny hole through it and then hang it up with a ribbon through this puncture. The fact that almost half of the cookies broke into pieces by performing this action, didn’t seem to bother them - instead, they found this to be an advantage, since they now had an excuse to eat them right away.

Now that Freddie wasn’t all against Christmas anymore, Brian came up with the idea of having the annual party on Christmas Eve in their apartment. Normally, they would go out to Tim’s or Mary’s place, leaving a more than annoyed Freddie behind at their house. But now that everyone, especially Freddie agreed, Brian started calling friends and neighbours, whilst Freddie tried to come up with a proper dinner for the numerous guests. John and Roger kept on working to make the apartment party-proof already, and Brian and Freddie went out to the supermarket to buy products for the meal they had decided to try out. Afterwards, they stood in the kitchen all afternoon long to turn the basket of products into a meal, which turned out not to be as easy as the recipe said it was. Freddie found himself getting into the same sort of argument with Brian as John and Roger had been having than morning. He was leaning against the countertop, arms crossed over his chest while looking at Brian who hastily took the baking tray out of the over, and he coughed at the cloud of smoke that it brought into the kitchen.

‘God, Brian, this piece of meat is getting blacker than my nail polish. Whatever this... _thing_ is,’ Freddie said as he pointed at the scorched turkey, ‘you somehow managed to make it look even worse than my normal attempts to prepare something edible.’

‘It’s a turkey, you smartass. If your vocabulary is as inadequate as your cooking abilities, you have no right to complain,’ Brian grumbled, though the both of them had to bit their bottom lip to keep themselves from smiling.

Both cooking - or burning - dinner and decorating of the apartment lasted all day long, and so did John and Roger’s beloved task of eating the broken cookies.

‘Darling, please, don’t eat all those cookies! We’ll be having dinner in ten minutes,’ Freddie sighed as Roger walked into of the kitchen to look at his friends’ failed attempt of baking a piece of meat that once looked like a turkey when they had bought it, while Roger was consuming what must be at least the tenth cookie of that day, and he smirked.

‘Dinner? You mean ‘a failed attempt to prepare some proper meal for the 24th?’ Roger asked while staring down sceptically at the turkey.

‘A failed attempt? Everything is going more than fine,’ Freddie said quasi-indignant, though he knew there was no way in denying that their kitchen-creation wasn’t a disaster.

‘Yeah, sure. As if I didn’t overhear your conversation. I think it’s going to be a bloody miracle if we even _make_ it to Christmas if we eat that ‘thing’,’ Roger teased, putting another broken piece of a gingerbread man in his mouth, both of which earned him a poke from Freddie.

‘We’ll try again tomorrow, and I’m sure it’ll be better than now.’

‘Because worse than this isn’t quite possible anymore, now is it? I see where you came from when you told me not to eat all the cookies already. Because then we’ll surely _starve_ tomorrow,’ Roger snorted, after which he was sent out of the kitchen with a spank on his butt from Freddie, who was trying his very best not to laugh. Freddie looked at Roger as he walked into the living room again, closing the door behind him, and the frontman crossed his arms over his chest.

‘God, I almost forgot what a tease he can be,’ he chuckled. ‘And especially how cute he still manages to be when he does so. It makes me realise that it was all worth it.’

‘What? Burning a turkey?’ Brian asked with a light frown on his forehead as he put the tray with the turkey, that was undeniably blacker than Freddie’s nail polish, down on the stove.

‘No, dear. Changing my view on Christmas. Seeing him being happy makes it all worth it,’ Freddie smiled softly. ‘We’re gonna make this the best Christmas ever for him.’

# # #

Several days passed, several days that were completely dedicated to the preparation of Christmas. Decorating the apartment. Having to bake cookies thrice because everybody kept snitching them out of the tree. Singing along to horrible Christmas songs they had heard way too often. Receiving dozens of cards and placing them on the chimney until they eventually ran out of space and had to move part of them over to the windowsill, the kitchen table, their nightstands. Freddie even allowed them to use his piano as stockroom. Cooking and eating Christmas meals that were getting a little more edible with every single try. They didn’t miss a single aspect of the pros and cons of Christmas - mainly the pros, and Roger was happier than Freddie had ever seen him before.

Freddie was lying in bed, reading the last pages of  _A Christmas Carol_ , wondering where his boyfriend was at this point in time. Roger had announced that he had to go pick up one last gift two hours ago, but now it was half past eleven, Freddie was starting to worry about him. Maybe something had happened to him. Maybe his car had broken down, maybe he was rambling about somewhere in the middle of the night, or other things that’d be even worse to think about with Christmas Eve in view.

Just as he wanted to put his book aside and get out of bed, he heard the front door being opened and carefully being shut. Another door was being opened as well - one of the other boys must have gotten up as well, and when Freddie listened very carefully, he heard fragments of a conversation between John and Roger. Something about ‘this is the cutest gift ever,’ something like ‘we have to put it somewhere warm and safe’ and something that sounded like ‘he shouldn’t be able to see it or hear it or notice it in any other way.’ The footsteps vanished into the distance, and Freddie’s curiosity about the secret subject grew. Yet, when ‘goodnights’  were being exchanged and Roger treaded towards their room, he pretended to be reading again, looking up innocently when his lover walked in on him.

‘Hey, dear,’ he said, and Roger almost jumped off his feet.

‘God, Freddie! I assumed you were asleep,’ Roger admitted quietly while kicking off his shoes and throwing his sweater over his head to reveal his bare chest. He was visibly a little stressed when he sat down on the mattress, and it soon became obvious why that was.

‘No, just reading a bit. I was waiting for you to come to bed.’

This wasn’t exactly soothing Roger, who fumbled around with the duvet. ‘Did you hear me talking?’

‘Not really,’ Freddie said. It was only partly a lie - he had heard him talk, but the subject was still a mystery to him. Still, he quickly changed the subject, hoping to get Roger’s happy mood back, that was now being shadowed by worry. ‘Come on dear, move that fine ass a little closer to me. As much I love how cute you look in your Christmas sweater, I think I love your naked chest even more,’ Freddie said as he patted on the mattress next to him, and Roger joined him right away, filling the cold spot up with his body heat. Freddie was still sitting half-upright and he swung an arm around his shoulder so Roger could rest his head on his upper arm, and as he did, the blond man looked up at the book he was reading.

‘ _A Christmas Carol_?’

‘Last page. You know, a week ago, when I was still nagging about Christmas, Brian told me that I was just like Ebenezer Scrooge. And now I think he was right.’

‘Because you hated Christmas so much?’ Roger guessed, and Freddie smiled.

‘Partly. But mainly because I changed my view as well, and I really started liking Christmas. As long as I’m with you I enjoy everything, and mainly Christmas,’ Freddie yawned as he tucked a strand of blond hair behind Roger’s ear and then kissed his cheek. ‘Go to sleep, dear. It’s gonna be a big day tomorrow,’ Freddie said as he had read the last sentence of the book and put it aside with a weary smile on his face.

# # #

It was barely seven o’clock when Roger decided to be the personal alarm clock for the entire band, and after quickly getting dressed by throwing his sweater, that was still white from the powdered flour, over his head, he dragged the rest of the band in various states of tiredness into the living room. Yet, this feeling of weariness disappeared quickly when the four of them saw the stack of presents that were piled up under the Christmas tree.

‘Merry Christmas, dear,’ Freddie said as he kissed Roger, and after the four of them had all exchanged the two words, they found themselves sitting and laying down around the Christmas tree to start with opening the presents right away.

The first presents were for John, Brian and Roger; albums, books, clothes, watches, music tools (and even a new bass guitar for John) were part of the huge pile of presents, but as Freddie picked up yet another present that turned out to be for Brian, he started wondering whether there was something for him or if the boys had just decided not to buy him anything because of his previous behaviour. He tried to be as happy for Roger as possible as he opened a present that contained a new album, but he couldn’t get rid of this empty feeling, especially when they were running out of presents.

Freddie was staring at the empty space under the Christmas tree as John handed Brian the last present, but it was Roger who eventually released him from his suffering.

‘You didn’t think we wouldn’t give you anything, now do you?’ he said as he stood up and returned with a box full of presents, handing it over at his lover with a big smile on his face. ‘These are for you, dear.’

‘Really?’ Freddie asked cheerfully, holding the first present in his hands.

‘Really, it’s all yours. Go ahead, we want to know what you think about it,’ Roger said as he laid down on the floor on his belly again, watching as his boyfriend ripped the gift wrap apart to reveal the garment.

‘Oh God, you got me another Christmas sweater!’ Freddie smiled, looking up at Roger, who blushed a little.

‘I bought the other one somewhere in a fashion store, but my aunt made this one for you. She’s really good at knitting, and she managed to make this in just-’ Roger probably wanted to tell him more about the origin of the sweater, but Freddie shut him up by watching his mouth against his. ‘You’re a darling, and so is your aunt. We’ll invite her to our Christmas dinner to thank her,’ he said as he got rid of his nightshirt and instead pulled on the new piece of clothing.

‘I wasn’t so sure about giving these as a present, but I thought you might like it,’ Roger said shyly as Freddie proceeded to unwrap the second gift, which turned out to be a small pile of cards.

‘My aunt, Kashmira, my uncle, my parents... Oh God, this is great!’ Freddie smiled widely when he softly mumbled the words his family had written down for him, before he gave Roger another kiss to show him his appreciation. Besides that, shirts, stage jewellery, makeup and other things that he absolutely loved, and even when he had unpacked every single gift and had thanked the band for everything, it turned out that there was yet something more to come. Roger left the room with a sneaky smile and the returned with a shoebox, even though Freddie would soon find out that it contained something that was even better than a new pair of platform heels.

‘Okay, I got this present last-minute, which means yesterday night, because otherwise you would have found out’ Roger said as he carefully handed Freddie the box. ‘You better open it as fast as possible, because otherwise I think the present is going to reveal itself.’

Just when the last word left Roger’s lips, Freddie heard a faint meow coming from the box, and he didn’t even feel the need to cover up his teeth as he smiled. ‘You went out in the middle of the night to buy me a cat?’ he asked in euphoric disbelief, taking the cover off the box to reveal the tiny animal inside of it.

‘Actually, it’s still a kitten-’ Roger said, but he was once again being interrupted - or actually, his voice was being drowned - in Freddie’s excited cry, and the four of them crawled closer to their frontman as he carefully took the little furball out of its improvised basket.

‘Oh my Goodness, I can’t believe you got me a kitten- look how cute it is, and how soft, and- Oh God, I love you, Roggie,’ Freddie said as he held the kitten close to his chest, stroking its tabby fur softly. Many ‘oohs’ and ‘aahws’ filled the room when the kitten meowed and especially as Freddie placed it on the carpet to let it take some careful steps by itself. The four of them were now on their knees, all stroking the little animal

‘Are we even allowed to have cats here-’ Brian wanted to know, but he was cut off by his three friends slurring out three careless ‘shut up’s’ and he shrugged before he lost himself into the happy atmosphere that the newest occupant of their apartment had brought along again.

‘Is it a boy or a girl, dear?’ Freddie asked when he picked his pet up again and walked over to the sofa, where he sat down and placed the kitten on his lap. ‘And how are we going to call him or her?’

‘It’s a girl. And I wanted to call her Carol, after the book. If that’s fine with you,’ Roger said as he sat down next to Freddie, who wrapped an arm around his shoulder, his eyes not leaving the kitten that was crawling along his upper leg now.

Freddie smiled again. ‘After A Christmas Carol. The book that brought so many changes,’ Freddie sighed happily, before resting his head against his lover’s shoulder. ‘Of course that’s fine. We’ll call her Carol, to remind us of our own Christmas Carol.’

‘Queen’s Christmas Carol. I think that’s going down in history,’ John said as he picked up a shred of gift wrap to put it in the box that was serving as a litter bin now.

‘How we changed a Christmas-hater into a Christmas-lover,’ Roger smiled, patting the kitten. ‘It took some effort but it was all worth it.’

‘Thanks for putting that much effort into me. Merry Christmas, dear,’ Freddie said as he pressed his lips against Roger’s.

‘Merry Christmas,’ Roger whispered against Freddie’s lips, the final confirmation that their very own Christmas Carol was more successful than he could ever have wished for only a week ago.

 


End file.
